


Collateral Cost

by theladybeatrice



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: "Musketeers Don't Die Easily", Angst, Episode 110, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:32:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladybeatrice/pseuds/theladybeatrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Porthos angst inspired by his sad face for Constance in "Musketeers Don't Die Easily"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Cost

**Author's Note:**

> Porthos always seems so open and accepting that I couldn't resist the chance to explore some angst for him.

“One day, Porthos, my friend, we’ll sit down and I’ll teach you about women.” Aramis’ promise rang in his head now. Porthos knew it had been in jest, but still, Aramis certainly had skills he could teach. He wished now that he taken his friend up on it.

Constance had been panicked. And Porthos hadn’t handled that well. He didn’t know what to do with that. He had seen Constance angry, fierce, protective, laughing and loving. But never, never panicked. He knew how to handle shaky soldiers after a battle; he knew how to calm frightened bystanders. But Constance should have never, had never, shown panic, and that’s what threw him. 

She had pushed into the garrison at a run, searching for anyone she knew. She looked like she would break as she spotted him coming around a corner with Aramis. Constance came to the garrison all the time. Sometimes accompanying her husband on business, but more often than not conducting business herself, she would march straight across the courtyard and up the stairs to Treville’s office without any hesitation. Lately though, she was here just as often at their request, joining them in whatever scheme required the help of a woman. She was likely the one woman in Paris comfortable with striding through all the soldiers in the garrison. But this day, panic showed in every move.

“Where is he? Where’s d’Artagnan?” Porthos blanched at the question. They forgot about Constance! In all their planning against Milady, they had forgot about Constance. Sure, the affair with d’Artagnan seemed to be over, but that didn’t mean the love was over. Of course, she would be scared. Of course, she would want to know what was happening. Why hadn’t they considered this? They had taken the lad’s word that she didn’t care for him, but hadn’t they all known that was wrong? How could they have forgotten?

“Why would he fight with Athos?” 

“It was over a woman,” Porthos replied. He believed in telling as much truth as possible. It was easier for all concerned. But even as the words came gently out of his mouth, he knew instantly it was the wrong thing. In the edge of his vision, he could see Aramis stiffen his shoulders and suck in his breath, steeling himself for whatever was about to go wrong. Porthos, felt, rather than saw, Aramis roll his eyes because of Porthos’ mistake. Constance’s face fell. She was blaming herself for something she surely had no part in. 

Porthos had learned early on that his size and strength could both intimidate and comfort. Anyone whom he took into the wide circle of his arms would relax and settle into a protected state of calm. He wished so badly to do that for Constance now, to take her in close, soothe her fears, and bring balance back to her unsteady face. But he couldn’t do that. When they had agreed on this plan, they had agreed on absolute secrecy. They had to behave as if they had actually abandoned d’Artagnan, no matter where they were. Even in the garrison, Milady might have spies watching. Even their fellow musketeers might let something small slip, something to clue Milady that they were not sincere. An overheard conversation in a tavern, or news seduced out of a dazzled man could be enough to get them all killed. The only safe place to discuss the plan was in Treville’s office. They had to maintain the ruse at all costs. And right now, that cost was Constance. 

If they had truly abandoned d’Artagnan, they must appear to abandon his woman as well. And she was absolutely his woman, as surely as if he had marked her; as surely as if the ring on her finger had been placed by the Gascon, and not that simpering cloth merchant. The fact that she was standing here, even after sending d’Artagnan away, clearly marked her. 

Porthos shook his head sadly, disturbed at what they were doing. He wondered if there were any way he could get to Constance, tell her the truth of the mission. He trusted her implicitly. But it couldn’t be here. It would have to be at her house. It would have to be without her husband nearby. That man could not be trusted. Was it even possible? Porthos had no idea how quickly events would be moving now. Would there even be time to get to Constance, much less find her alone in the house? What if he were seen? Would that be enough to send a message to Milady? There were just too many uncertainties to bring Constance in on the plan. 

Aramis, in his utter skill, placed a hand on her back, at once reassuring and pushing her to leave. He promised to let her know when they had new information, and Constance seemed to believe it. Porthos tried to nod sympathetically, hoped his face conveyed his understanding without giving away too much to anyone else. 

As she walked unsteadily away, Porthos stood side by side with Aramis, backs turned to the garrison. “You only have to look at her face to see how much she adores him,” Aramis sighed. It was true. Even though Porthos pointed out that d’Artagnan believed she didn’t care, Aramis clearly did not. Neither did Porthos. It tore at his heart to think that they had done this to her. He hoped they would have the opportunity to make this right. Even if she slapped him, even if she yelled at him, it would be worth it to take away her fear. But for right now, for all his strength, Porthos felt utterly and absolutely powerless.


End file.
